


A Fallen Saint

by Leydhawk



Category: Captain America, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: ALL IN THE PAST, AU, Abusive Parent, Emotional Abuse, Established Relationship, M/M, One-Shot, Sarah Rogers wasn’t the saint we thought, Secrets Revealed, Therapy, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 21:16:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16773073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leydhawk/pseuds/Leydhawk
Summary: Steve shares a breakthrough from therapy with Sam, revealing that he has hidden childhood hurts that are ready to be healed.





	A Fallen Saint

Sam could see that it had been a breakthrough therapy session for Steve by the way Steve looked when he arrived home. Exhausted, shell-shocked, a bit confused, resigned, yet euphoric... Yeah. Sam had been there. Especially when he’d realized that while losing a friend and wingman was terrible, the reason it had damned near broken him was that he’d been in love with Riley. That had shaken Sam’s foundations of self, since previous to then he’d identified as straight.

Sam waited, watching to see how Steve would be, and how he’d need Sam to behave. 

It was a relief when Steve hung up his coat and flopped onto their sofa next to Sam, slumping down to put his head on Sam’s shoulder with a sigh like a release of steam. 

“I wanna tell you. But it’s awful and...” Steve began. 

“You can tell me anything.”

Steve craned his neck to look at Sam without lifting his head. 

“I know. I just...”

They looked at each other for a long moment and Steve must have been reassured by what he saw, because he nodded and relaxed, looking vacantly across the room. 

“My Mom...”

Sam was surprised by the subject matter but remained still and relaxed, awaiting Steve’s next words. 

“I think she resented me. I was all she had left of Dad, and I was this sickly weakling, y’know?”

Sam’s stomach dropped. He, like everyone else who knew Steve, had been under the impression that Sarah Rogers had been almost saint-like in caring for her son. Steve had fostered that view, and Sam’s heart ached that his lover had been hiding such an old hurt. 

“I always thought, well, she took care of me, right? I survived childhood because she made sure I had everything I needed...”

“Kids need more than medicine and food, though,” Sam stated quietly. 

Steve blew out a deep breath. “Yeah. I just... I wanted her to love me, to...hug me, and to be proud of me... But she...” Steve’s shoulders hitched and Sam felt tears fill his eyes. 

“She’d say things, whenever I got sick... Like, sarcastic things...m-mean things. And she’d roll her eyes and mutter to herself and I tried...I tried not to get sick. Bucky’s Mom would see I was a little more pale than usual, or breathing rougher than normal, and she’d put a mustard plaster on me and sit me by their stove and make me tea. Sometimes it helped, but... I’d go home and try to cough really quiet, but Mom would hear me and... She’d complain that we wouldn’t have Sunday dinner for a month because I needed medicine, and... Sam...” Steve tensed up and burrowed closer. Sam moved his arm and wrapped it around Steve, which seemed to calm him a bit. Sam slid his palm across Steve’s back, trying to soothe. 

“I didn’t want to be sick... But she acted like it was my fault. And whenever we didn’t have money for new shoes or she had to darn my socks again, she’d make sure I knew it was because I was frail and sick and so unlike my father that she wondered sometimes if I had been swapped in place of her real son, my father’s son, by evil spirits. I... I fought people, bullies, hoping to prove my worth; to her, and to myself. So many times I wondered if it wouldn’t actually have been better to die and let her have a life free from my dead weight...”

Sobs broke through Steve’s big body, then, and Sam pulled him close, enveloped him as best he could, feeling how the emotions wracked Steve’s frame and even shook the sofa. Sam just held on and let him cry. 

When the emotional storm finally slowed and calmed, Sam kissed the top of Steve’s head. 

“Thank you for telling me. I’m so sorry you had to go through that, babe. Emotional abuse, and verbal abuse...man, it can be devastating to people, especially kids. I guess I kinda understand why you got no sense of self-preservation in the field, huh? But baby, you matter to me. You matter so much. You’re the best man I know, and I’m so proud you’re with me.”

Steve looked up at him, and Sam could see uncertainty as well as hope, naked in his eyes. “You don’t...you don’t think I’m pathetic? Mom was...she took care of me, and I don’t want to seem ungrateful...”

Sam shook his head and kissed Steve’s forehead, then his cheek, and looked hard at him. 

“I am more proud of you than ever, Steve. I always knew you were tough and strong and stubborn, but knowing you came outta that sorta childhood and you still feel compassion and generosity and righteousness... Baby, I love you. I love you more than ever.”

A few more tears leaked from Steve’s red-rimmed eyes, and Sam kissed him softly on the lips. 

“That’s why...I’m so awkward with kids. I don’t wanna be like—“

“You’re incapable of being like her, Steve. I promise.”

Steve relaxed into Sam’s arms and they stayed that way as the light faded to evening. 

**Author's Note:**

> An appalling number of special needs kids are abused, and Steve was very much a special needs kid. I haven’t seen this idea written anywhere, and it’s plagued me, so I had to get it out. Please be kind in your comments, I work retail and it’s the awful time of year for me.


End file.
